THE day passed without further incident. I took a turn about the room on Fronsac’s arm and found that my strength was fast returning. I ate the food that he brought me, and lay staring at the ceiling till drowsiness overtook me. Yet, despite myself, I was not content. More than once I caught myself listening for I know not what--a light step in the corridor, the rustle of a dress, the sound of a voice--expecting the door to open and show Claire there. What a fool I was! What time had she for me? She was busy with the affairs of her duchy--a great lady! Night came at last, and darkness, bringing sleep with it. Dawn found me strong, refreshed. I arose and walked about the room, and though my legs still trembled somewhat, I was certain that, once on horseback, I should be quite myself. I was determined to leave Marleon as soon as might be--a horror of the place possessed me. Fronsac found me dressed, and I lost no time in announcing my wish to set out with him for Cadillac. “But you are not strong enough,” he urged. “Let us wait. There is no cause for haste.” “If Mademoiselle Valérie heard you say that!” I laughed. “I can see her awaiting you in that arbor by the river’s edge.” “So it is for my sake!” he said. “No, it is not for your sake, my friend,” I answered earnestly. “At least, not wholly. I am itching to leave this place. There is no quiet for me here.” He looked at me for a moment questioningly, but I did not meet his eyes. My secret must remain my own. “Very well,” he said quietly at last, “since you wish it, we will set out to-day. I will inform Madame la Duchesse. You will doubtless wish to thank her for her kindness.” “Yes,” I assented thickly. “Yes.” It would try my strength to set eyes on her again--to speak to her. But I was a man, thank God! I could hide my heart! Yet when at last we stood before her, I forgot my injured pride in the joy of seeing her--the calm brow, the dark eyes, the arching mouth, the white hand, and the swell of the arm lost in the lace above. What a woman! No longer the girl fresh from the convent--the fine lady! A duchesse--a queen! “And so you are leaving us, M. de Marsan?” she asked at last. Her voice brought me back to myself--she on the hill-top, I in the valley. “Yes, I am leaving, Madame,” I said. “I am quite well again, and my friend here is hungering for Cadillac and those that await him there.” Her face changed, and she sat gazing at me in silence for a moment. There was that in her eyes--but there!--why be, a second time, a fool? “You do not seem well,” she said. “Nor strong. Are you quite sure you can bear the journey?” “Quite sure, Madame.” She made a little gesture of impatience. “I have to thank you, Madame,” I added, “for your kindness in receiving me here. It was very foolish of me to be ill.” “Very foolish,” she agreed, looking at me again. “Very foolish. I do not think you realize how foolish. I had thought you a man of wit, M. de Marsan, but I find you very dense!”